


My Brother Has Many Lovers

by Metallic_Sweet



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Drunkenness, Immortals and Mortals, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, POV Third Person Limited, Secret Relationship, Sibling Incest, Truths and Untruths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:24:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thor and Loki first ventured to Midgard, Loki made Thor a cloak of shadows to allow the mortals to gaze upon him without being blinded. It's only years later when the cloak frays that Thor realizes that, perhaps, he's the one who's been blind all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother Has Many Lovers

When they went to Midgard, back in the days when they had been brothers and friends, Loki would weave shadows into cloaks with silver thimbles and dark threads, wrapping them around Thor and the Warriors Three's shoulders. He never took a cloak for himself, his spells mimicking the shadows, made for the shadows already.

The last cloak, woven for Thor by Loki's hand Midgardian centuries ago, had frayed. Thor knew it hadn't been meant to last for as long as he had had it, but he had never really thought about it, just known, in the back of his mind as he rushed across Midgard with his new friends, that there were tears in the weave, loose threads of shimmereing shadow trailing out behind him. It was simply a habit to wear it on Midgard, and Thor was a creature of habit in so many things. Calling Loki "brother" when Loki only spoke his name as a curse; shouting for feasts at the end of successful battles; smashing his plates and glasses when pleased with a new delicacy: Thor was a man of habit, through and through.

So, he does not understand at first why Steve Rogers stumbles back from him, or why Tony Stark veers higher into the sky, or why Clint Barton and Natasha Romanova suddenly clutch at their eyes as if in pain. He does not understand why Loki was laughing at him, or why Doctor Doom is recoiling. Mjolnir still raised high, adrenaline of battle surging through him, and Thor does not understand.

"Why, they draw away from your _radiance_!" Loki cackles, and Thor is suddenly struck--beneath all the confusion and anger and sudden uncertainty--how long it's been since he's seen actual joy on Loki's face. "Your little mortals cannot bear to look upon you, not as you really are! You are a fool, Thor! An childish, brutish fool!"

With a roar, Thor swings Mjolnir at Loki, but it passes through him, the illusion vanishing in thin, wispy strands of magic woven. Loki laughs still as he slings his arms around his groaning Doctor Doom, all green eyes and glinting teeth. He looks like he did when they were children and he'd received a new toy.

"It was never made to last," Loki says before he vanishes into the shadows.

 

When Loki was just out of boyhood and Thor just about to become a man, they traveled to Midgard alone. Thor had been broad but still a bit unsure of his strength and footing with his manly form, and Loki's moods had just begun to grow to their extremes of lighthearted mischief and cruel melancholy. They had been untested and immortal in their beliefs, and it had been the best time to travel, just the two of them, certain and together.

It was for that trip that Loki wove this cloak of shadows. Thor has pulled the tattered remnants back around himself, has mostly secured it around his shoulders with what weak threads of magic he can muster himself. The clasp had finally broken in that last battle, the cloak escaping him without any aid. He's apologized, and, although all of his Midgardian friends accepted it with sincere smiles, they still shy away from him, still glance to the side as if expecting to be blinded once again. They are not angry, no, but they are scared, and that is worse in so many ways.

"You are a fool," Loki snarls, now acrid and bitter and unsympathetic in the dark of the hotel suite.

Thor doesn't dare glance over his shoulder, doesn't dare look towards the cold, impersonal bed his brother is sprawled out upon. They meet like this, even now in secrecy as they were back on Asgard, here on Midgard where no one would suspect them of such treason. Loki's mood is utterly black tonight, and Thor is guilty of being grateful for that. The rare moment of joy he glimpsed in his brother on the battlefield has turned sour in Thor's gut, and he wouldn't have been able to stomach it here, in the dark where neither of them can pretend.

"And I will not fix it," he continues, and Thor can hear his breath hitch as he shifts on the sheets. "You _brute_."

Thor doesn't answer. He clenches his hands against the tall oaken dresser and feels the wood creak. Loki had asked for it, and Thor always gives his brother what he deserves. But Loki never asks, never says what he really wants, so Thor always ends up doing something wrong, never gets it right. 

"Thor."

He turns then, knows that to be a command. Loki is on his knees, rubbing the heel of his right hand against his inner thigh, hair falling forward and into his eyes.

"Get over here."

Thor moves forward, climbing onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Loki doesn't look at him, intent on massaging out the cramp caused by Thor's roughness, neck muscles tense, eyes shadowed and dark. Thor can smell himself on his brother this close, knows if he leans in to aid Loki's hand the smell will be stronger, heady and full and easily washed away. Loki's scent is weaker, sinuous and womanly, but powerful in a grasping, taloned way. It lingers like some sort of cloying perfume, and Thor thinks inanely of going shopping with Natasha at a department store a week ago to buy Steve a birthday cologne.

He feels fingertips on his cheek. Loki's fingers are cold, and his eyes are dark when Thor meets them, no smile or even a sneer on his brother's lips. There's miles of distance between them, a gaping chasm, and even Loki does not lie about that in these moments where they meet in secrecy and darkness.

"Now give us a kiss."

His brother tastes of burnt promises and lies.

 

His Midgardian companions forgive him, slowly, painfully. Thor smiles and accepts their apologies of fear and uncertainty as best he can. It is not their fault. Thor is a god to their people: this is just how it must be.

It is two months since the initial incident that Thor encounters Loki outside the most unlikely of places: a Midgardian laundromat. Loki doesn't notice Thor and Steve's approach, the two of them originally just out for a walk in the city, his face in profile as he speaks to someone inside and just out of their line of sight. Steve does not recognize Loki at first, so rare it is for Loki to appear in anything but his helmet and full armor before the Avengers, but Thor's murmur of his brother's name makes Steve alert, ready to attack. But then, so very strangely, Loki's face lights up in what Thor knows is sincere amusement, and Loki laughs, stepping inside the rundown establishment in a suit that rivals one of Tony's.

They hear him say, in a tone of intrigue and incredulousness as they approach carefully and before the door shuts, "So you sit upon it and -?"

Like two school boys given the chance to peer into the girl's locker room, Steve and Thor peer inside of the laundromat. Loki's back is to them, long hair tied back and the tail of it poking up over the fabric of his winter scarf. He's talking to a mortal man, perhaps thirty or a little older, dressed in casual Midgardian jeans and a sweater, sitting on top of a dryer. The man says something, a wide, slightly crooked grin on his face, and Loki's shoulders shake with laughter again before moving over to the dryer next to the man, producing coins with a turn of his hand. This attention never leaves the mortal.

Thor sees Loki's mouth, smiling broadly, honestly, form the words, "How many?"

Steve's hand comes to rest on Thor's shoulder, and, reluctantly, he lets Steve draw them away, away from this strange, light version of his brother and the man who is not Thor that holds Loki's attentions. Thor bites his tongue and does not think of all the times he's seen Loki's honesty directed at him, does not feel jealousy and anger that it should now be directed at a nothing, normal mortal. These are feelings that he knows are not right; these are feelings that would burn the friend walking so close, so resolutely at his side.

"He has always had his lovers," Thor says after the silence stretches long and thin.

"They looked happy," Steve murmurs, and, to his credit, he does not glance back over his shoulder.

"Who is that man?" Thor blurts before he can stop himself.

Steve doesn't respond. He looks pensive, almost sad, like he does when he thinks of the war Thor had heard so many stories about and the time before it.

"They looked like they were in love," Steve says finally.

"Of course," Thor scoffs, angry now. "My brother has many lovers."

The look Steve gives him is crushing. It's like the fear that Clint and Natasha sometimes still cast his way, but worse somehow, not so much fear as understanding.

"Does he -," Steve starts, his voice stopping as if against a physical wall before he breathes in and tries again. "Does he look at them all like that?"

Thor bites the inside of his cheek. It does nothing for the crumbling of his heart.

"No," Thor says; "Not anymore."

 

"Who is he?"

Loki doesn't even move from his loose-limb sprawl on the suite couch, fingers against his lips as he licks syrup off them, naked but for an open green dressing gown. Thor can see a clear crystal carafe on the low table next to his brother, only dregs left at the bottom. His brother looks over at Thor in the doorway, a lazy, drunken grin on his sticky lips.

"Who?"

Thor grinds his teeth, letting the hotel door swing shut behind him. "Your mortal lover."

"Oh," Loki says, and he giggles, a pink flush brightening his complexion. "Oh, dear."

Thor resists the urge to strike him, moving to take a seat in the overstuffed armchair across from the couch. There's a platter of pancakes in what was probably once whipped cream and strawberry syrup on the low table between them. It looks like Loki ordered it as an afterthought to the wine: the pancakes are squashed, the white cream and red sauce mixed together obscenely by his brother's fingers. Once, Thor would have already begun to feed the mess to Loki, leaning deep over his brother's body and relishing the abuse of the couch. Now, he feels too much, knows too much, and Loki just grins wickedly at him across the platter.

"Does it hurt you," Loki asks, slowly, a little slurred, "to know I've taken another lover?"

"Have you?" Thor asks, and it's a valid question; he can never know with his brother.

Of a fleeting second, Loki's expression shutters, just his eyes dimming briefly, but then he smiles again, more wicked than before. "Would it make you angry if I had?"

Thor growls, and Loki laughs drunken giggles, none of the real, joyous laughter that Thor had overheard outside the laundromat. With a luxurious sigh, Loki lurches up, an arm around the back of the couch to keep himself upright. He hums a few notes of a song that Thor distantly remembers, although he cannot place it, smiling off into the distance before turning his eyes, green and lazy, back to Thor.

"Don't worry, Brother," Loki says, only cruel amusement in his tone; "You're still my favorite."

 

The next battle Loki engages in with the Avengers is strange, even by Loki's and their standards.

Loki is a third party to the battle, which is odd enough, his presence more observational than confrontational. It's almost as if he's there just for kicks, which shouldn't rankle Thor like it does; Loki has never been interested in combat just of the sake of it, which seems to be the motif of the current villain they're fighting. Loki shoots spells that hinder both the Avengers and the villain, laughing like the mischief-maker he is at the incensed reactions the stinging spells and smoke bombs receive.

Finally, at his wit's end, Thor turns from the main target to his wayward brother and roars, "What madness are you playing at today, Loki?"

Loki casts him a briefly pitying look before disappearing, reappearing sitting with his legs slung around the shoulders of the villain of the day. The villain shrieks in surprise before stilling as Loki's hands lock around his neck. His hand is raised with the mechanical weapon he's been using pointed straight at Thor, at the blind spot that Thor created when he turned his attention to Loki. There's a faint glow of green around the villain's body, and Thor realizes that Loki has frozen the man in place, but the villain's eyes are large and filling quickly with fear, his mind completely coherent.

"You bore me," Loki says to the frozen man; he's smiling, a bright, cheerful grin before it all suddenly morphs, horribly, irrevocably, and he whispers: 

" _Stop._ "

The man's neck snaps like a twig under Loki's hands. Loki stands, tossing the dying body to the side without so much as a second glance. Across the rubble, Thor can see Steve with his shield still raised, eyes wide in his mask, darting between Loki, who shakes his hands out as if ridding himself of something dirty, and Thor. Thor wonders what Steve sees here.

Loki sighs, looking relaxed. He stretches, expression lazy like it had been in the hotel suite, his eyes glancing towards a large digital clock face still functioning above their heads in Times Square. He blinks, looks a bit surprised, the world around him forgotten.

"Oh," he says, "I'm late."

And he's gone just like that, leaving behind a dead body and wailing sirens.

 

When Thor thinks about it, really thinks about it as he's found himself doing since coming to Midgard, he wonders if Loki loved him, truly. They did nothing that normal lovers did, except, perhaps, for the the sex. As much as Thor hates to admit it, maybe the sex was all they had after a while, their brotherly bond frayed so long ago.

Loki's mood is foul tonight, his face drawn and his pallor ashen. He brushes away Thor's greeting kiss, sits still clothed in another Midgardian suit on the balcony of the hotel suite, staring out over the sea view. Thor lingers, large and awkward, leaning on the railing, and wonders how Loki picks and obtains these places for their liasons. They're all beautifully furnished and decorated, the food first-class and the scenery the very best that Midgard has to offer. Thor would have never found such places, never personally felt to urge to find them for himself. That was Loki's modus operandi, not Thor's.

He isn't sure how long they stay like that, staring out over the sea. Thor's mind wanders, thinking of his Midgardian comrades, of the gaps he's begun to feel in their relationship ever since the cloak of shadows slipped, of the good and bad times they've shared. He thinks of when Loki would have taken his greeting kiss with a laugh of joy, how once all it took to chase the shade from his brother's expression was a smile turned his way. He wonders if this is what his father meant to teach him when he banished Thor here in what feels like was so long ago.

There's a soft shifting of cushions to his right. Thor looks over to see Loki staring at him, his brother's eyes glowing as night settles around them. They draw Thor over until he's seated against Loki on the chaise longue, his brother cold and unwelcoming in his arms. Loki reaches up, threads his fingers in Thor's hair, his nails trailing over the crown of Thor's head, leaving behind a lingering, tingling sensation.

"Brother?"

Thor feels Loki sigh, his breath moving out in a thin stream against Thor's neck. The fingers carding over his scalp don't still, and the first stirrings of worry awaken in his stomach. Thor holds Loki close, feels his brother sink into him.

"What ails you?"

"Why do you care, Thor?" Loki snaps, but there's no real heat to his tone.

Thor opens his mouth reflexively, the words coming out before he can stop them. "I love you."

A breathy laugh against his neck, fingers tangling in Thor's hair. "Oh, Thor," Loki murmurs, shifting slightly, slipping away as he presses against Thor's body just right. "Of course you do."

Thor shivers, mouth running dry as his brother presses slow butterfly kisses to his neck, against the sensitive skin behind his jaw. He feels suddenly childish, his response so blunt and unrefined, the worry in his gut mixing and souring with shame. Loki laughs softly, resting his cheek against Thor's, his dark hair falling into Thor's eyes.

"I should have remembered that," Loki says, his tone soft and dark. "You always loved me best."

"I do," Thor hears himself answer, feels his gut roll on the brink of nausea. "I've always loved you."

Loki pulls away, not quickly, nor slowly. He sits against the back of the chaise longue, feet tucked up against his hips, legs just parted. Part of Thor wants to fill that gap, the part that speaks against Thor's will and stirs the shame new to his soul. The other part, the one that holds him back, gazes at his brother and feels so much. Loki stares back, and it's a strange stare, one that Thor cannot remember seeing directed at him before, calculating but not entirely cold.

"You have, haven't you," Loki says after a long silence, and his voice is quiet and almost small.

"Yes," Thor whispers. "Yes."

 

When they were boys, Thor used to take Loki's smiles for granted. Back then, when they were young and still contained by nursemaids, Loki's smiles were wide and freely given, laughs drawn easily from his lips. Thor had thought nothing of them, except that they were good like the rest of the world.

Over time, as they grew and Thor's strength rattled doors from their hinges and Loki's fingers sank deeper into the shadows, Thor found himself having to work to draw out those once common smiles and laughs. It was like a game, one that only Thor and Loki could play with each other, even after their studies and training diverged and they spent more and more time apart. As time passed and they grew, the game changed, taking on a new, exciting, exhilarating element, so very adult and so much more than Thor had ever expected, ever dreamed. Thor had been swept up in his own storm, and, somehow, he had lost sight of Loki, of the smiles and laughter that were once all his own.

"Benjamin, this is my brother, Donald Blake. Donald, this is Benjamin Sanders."

The mortal man from the laundromat smiles widely, takes Thor's hand. He's shorter than both Loki and Thor, his build muscular and hands calloused from manual work. He has messy short hair and dark brown eyes, and he's so mortal and normal that it hurts Thor to look at him. Or, perhaps, it hurts Thor to look at Loki look at Benjamin, at the curve of Loki's lips, verging just on the edge of the honesty Thor once knew.

"It's great to meet you, Donald," the mortal says, and his tone is sincere and warm. "Loki's told me so much about you."

Thor smiles, not quite his usual beam. "I hope my brother has told you good things," he says as if it doesn't physically pain him.

Benjamin laughs, a boistrous noise. His eyes slide towards Loki, and they share a look, one that speaks volumes. Around them, the restaurant moves about lunch, unperturbed.

"Well, you are brothers," the mortal says after that fleeting moment, giving Thor a sympathetic look. "I know what that's like."

_No, you don't,_ Thor almost says. Instead, he keeps his lackluster smile in place and shakes his head. 

"Loki lies," he tells his brother's mortal lover.

"Of course he does," Benjamin chuckles, twining his fingers with Loki's on the tabletop; Loki's lips twitch, and Thor can see small lights in his eyes. "He's a lawyer."

Thor swallows. He does not know much of how the Midgardian world works, but he knows a bit of lawyers from Tony and S.H.I.E.L.D. It would be the sort of occupation Loki would take if he was mortal. 

"Come to think of it," Benjamin says, bringing Thor back from his wanderings, "Loki, you've never told me what Donald does for a living."

Loki licks his lips, eyes dancing as they glance Thor's way. "Oh, my brother is a doctor. For hearts, I believe."

Thor feels his mouth run dry as Benjamin's eyes light up, obviously impressed. Luckily, the food arrives before Benjamin can inquire further into the lie that Loki is weaving around Thor, and the rest of the lunch passes slowly, painfully so, as Thor watches his brother and this mortal man play out an act from a love story. Thor thinks of Loki's other lovers, the hundreds that have flitted in and out of his brother's life, and he can't help but wonder if he looked at all of them this way, in the way that Thor thought was his own.

"Don't worry, brother," Loki smiles in Thor's ear as he walks Thor to the edge of the Avengers Mansion's grounds, Benjamin waiting in the car.

Thor draws Loki into an embrace, feels Loki threading his fingers into the shadow cloak that hangs tattered over Thor's shoulders. He can feel the way the cloak folds tight against him, the frayed edges knitting together, the broken clasps clicking back in place. It only lasts a moment until he's pulling away, all green eyes and glinting teeth, Loki's shade cast and bound.

"It was never made to last."


End file.
